Lewis and Clark: A Rough Night
by alegriamarkerbox
Summary: Clark discovers more about Lewis's mental state after a difficult night, and discovers that he may have feelings for his partner.


Clark always went to bed after Lewis. He would enter the tent to find his partner asleep, face down, both of his hands tucked under his pillow. This night- just a few months into the expedition- began just like any other. Clark's ankle was a bit swollen; he had twisted it while climbing a hill overlooking the Missouri River. Lewis had nursed it the rest of the afternoon, telling Clark to rest it and keep it propped up on a log beside the fire pit. He limped inside the tent, finding Lewis asleep in his usual pose, and climbed into his own bed. Exhausted from the day's uphill hike, he did not find it hard to fall asleep. However, not long after he had nodded off, he awoke abruptly to a yelp.

"Lewis?" He sat up. "Lewis, was that you?" He lit the kerosene lamp that sat between their beds, and by its faint light, saw Lewis sitting upright, his blanket on the ground, and tears underneath his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"C-Clark," Lewis stammered, quickly gathering his blanket and covering himself. Clark slid out of bed and hobbled to Lewis's side. He noticed a thin film of sweat on his temples.

"What's wrong?"

"I-It was that d-dream again." Lewis bit his lower lip, but it still trembled, and the tears began to flow.

"What dream?" Clark sat beside Lewis's pillow and swung his feet upon the bed. Their bodies just touched.

"I don't want to talk about it." Lewis fell back and rolled over onto his side. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Hey, no worries. Something's bothering you."

Lewis wiped his eyes with his sleeve and hugged his pillow. Clark straightened out his blanket and pulled it up, over his shoulders. "I have this dream often."

"Yeah?" Clark lied down and faced his companion. "It must be scary if it woke you up that way."

While Lewis silently calmed himself down, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to blink away the tears, Clark wrapped both arms around him and drew him to his chest.

"In this dream, I'm back at home with Jefferson, and for some reason, my childhood bedroom is in the President's mansion," Lewis began, speaking softly. "Jefferson walks in the room, and he starts talking, but I can't really understand him, and I don't care to. Everything starts getting dark, and the sun is out, but the windows don't let in much light." Lewis shivered, and Clark embraced him more snugly. "Then, I start to hurt all over. My head, and my chest and stomach, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. I start crying out, but Jefferson keeps on talking, not minding me at all, almost like nothing is wrong with me. Then, he disappears, and so does the rest of the room, and it's all black." Lewis grew quiet, and Clark laid a hand on his cheek. "This- this is how I feel in real life sometimes." His mouth began to quiver again.

Clark was unsure of what to say or do. He kept Lewis in his arms and listened to his muffled sobs. He almost felt afraid. Seeing this man- always confident and outspoken, a natural leader- so vulnerable and scared. Scared of whatever it was that haunted his mind and that nobody would ever understand or even recognize what was wrong...

"Is there anything I can do?" Clark finally asked.

Lewis simply shook his head. "I d-don't expect you to d-do anything."

"I'll try to do _something_." Clark sighed and loosened his embrace, allowing Lewis to sit up. "Look." Clark motioned at his aching foot. " _You_ took care of _me_."

"I can't go back to sleep." Lewis sank back down on his side.

"Well, then I'll can't go back to sleep, too," Clark retorted, smiling. Lewis managed a brief smile as well. "How about we go outside for a bit?"

Lewis agreed, and they lied on the grass beside their fire pit, which still gave off warmth. However, Lewis shivered, and Clark returned to the tent for a blanket, which he spread across themselves. He embraced Lewis once again, pressing Lewis's head into his broad chest. Clark pressed his nose into Lewis's hair and inhaled deeply. He truly did care for this man. What he felt was much more than simply pity or concern; he felt something that he did not quite feel comfortable expressing aloud, although he believed that Lewis may have felt the same way about him.

They lied together for hours. Lewis kept his face buried right above Clark's heart, while Clark gazed upward at the moon, unable to sleep deeply as Lewis twitched and made quiet but high-pitched yelps. Clark, however, did not mind. He knew that tomorrow would be a slow day given Lewis's state. Did this happen to him often?

Clark realized that he had fallen into a deep sleep at last because he awoke as the sun had begun to rise. Lewis was still in his arms, his knees curled up to his chest and his hands pressed together beneath his cheek. It reminded Clark of his own little nieces and nephews from back home, who took their naps upon his parents' bed with their little fingers stuck inside their mouths.

"I'm sorry, Clark," Lewis whispered, awaking at last, his eyes still red.

"No need to apologize, Lewis. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What for?"

"I... I didn't know... I don't know what to do when you're... like this."

"Clark," Lewis said softly, sitting up. "When all you did was wake up and sit up with me all night? That's all I needed. No one has ever done that for me before. It's as if they assume I want to be left alone, or they're just afraid to ask if I need anything." He took hold of Clark's hand but stared at the ground sadly. "I know everything has been running smoothly the past several weeks, until now. I've been scared all along of what you would think when you finally saw me like this."

"So you feel like this... often?"

Lewis nodded. "There are nights when I can't fall asleep because I'm afraid of having that dream again. And then there are nights when I can't fall asleep because... well, I just can't. I have no idea why. I think it's because of the same reason why I feel so terrible sometimes when I'm awake, too."

Clark was about to speak, but he stopped when he made eye contact with Lewis.

"Is something else the matter?" Lewis asked.

"Oh. Well..." Clark anxiously clenched his fist. "Before we left, Jefferson told me."

"Told you what?"

"About you. How you get sometimes. He said you have... depressive moods, I think was what he said?"

"Well, now you know what they look like." Lewis sounded a bit frustrated. Indeed, he was. Not at Clark, or at Jefferson, but at himself.

 _He was frustrated that he was given the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream of exploring the wilderness. He did not deserve the honor._

 _He was frustrated that a man like Clark be stuck with him, having to tend to his fragility and his moods. Clark did not deserve that stress._

 _He was frustrated that on some days, he could function. That there were days when he was first to rise, eager to explore. But then on some days, suddenly, he couldn't wake up, and he did not want to explore. He could not bring his feet to carry him far or his hands to write in his journal._ _On those days, he hated himself. He wished he could fall asleep forever and never wake up. He did not deserve to live at all._

"Lewis?"

"Hmm?"

"I really..." Clark stopped, then leaned in suddenly and caught Lewis in another secure embrace. He still did not know what to say to Lewis, but for now, all he wanted to do was to make sure he felt safe.

And loved.


End file.
